


Rewritten Scenes

by ncfan



Category: Chronicles of Narnia - All Media Types, Chronicles of Narnia - C. S. Lewis
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-02
Updated: 2013-06-02
Packaged: 2017-12-13 18:31:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/827472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ncfan/pseuds/ncfan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A re-working of some of the more dissatisfying scenes of The Chronicles of Narnia.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rewritten Scenes

**Author's Note:**

> Story Notes: For the record, I do have problems with the way The Chronicles of Narnia was written from time to time. It comes off as cruel and condescending, both to the characters within and the readers without. So this is a project of mine, to rewrite certain scenes that stood out as being particularly cruel/condescending/problematic/just plain bizarre. I know that that will not be everyone’s cup of tea, so just have this as a warning.
> 
> Updates will probably be sporadic; this isn’t going to be a primary project of mine. Also, many of the early chapters at least will probably feature Susan, since even before her “betrayal” the narrative seemed to take special delight in being cruel to her.
> 
> \--
> 
> Chapter Notes: This is taken from Prince Caspian, Chapter 11 (‘The Lion Roars’), pp. 148-49.

It was indeed Aslan who emerged from the trees and the thick undergrowth, great and golden, as tall as a young horse and as bright as the sun. No other Lion could have looked as such.

 

Peter and Lucy bounded forth immediately, Edmund close behind, eager and unafraid. None of them had any questions in their hearts as to how they would be received by the Great Lion. They were, after all, the ever-faithful, or at least that was how they perceived themselves. They would never claim to have felt doubt in their hearts.

 

Susan and Trumpkin did not come forward.

 

Susan felt as though every scrap of courage she had ever possessed had deserted her. Where was the brave Queen who had fled Tashbaan under dark of night, risking death or seizure and forced marriage for the sake of her freedom? Where was the wise Queen who had mediated disputes and judged criminals in her own lands? Where was the faithful Queen who had never doubted, not for a moment?

 

She felt far more like an English girl than she did a Narnian Queen. What was worse was the way her siblings were looking at her. They looked… _unfriendly._ They looked at her as though she was something vaguely disgusting, and not-so-vaguely unworthy. It was how they had been looking at her the whole time they were in Narnia this time around, how they had spoken to her, talking over her, interrupting, telling her to shut up at every turn because she didn’t know what she was talking about. The way they looked at her now, Susan knew that they expected her to fall on her knees and apologize to them for being wrong—even when it was only Lucy who had believed that Aslan was there from the beginning.

 

-0-0-0-

 

Himself, Trumpkin could only stare at this great beast in disbelief. From the way the human children greeted him, Trumpkin supposed that this was to be Aslan, the great King of Narnia, son of the Emperor-beyond-the-sea, the Great Lion. This was to be their savior. This was the one who had abandoned Narnia to be conquered by the Telmarines.

 

A sharp upwelling of anger rose in the chest of the Dwarf. _Fine for you to come now, when our people are dying or dead, when the land has been taken by the Telmarines. Fine for you to come breezing in, save the day, and breeze out like you’re always supposed to have done, and leave us open for the next hostile invader._

_Where were you when the Telmarines came across the river? Where were you when our freedom and our lives were taken from us? Where were you when the great halls of the Dwarves were laid waste, I lost my family, and Nikabrik turned bitter and cold?_

_And_ now, _now you wish for my fealty._

-0-0-0-

 

“Daughter of Eve.” Susan’s head snapped up, and she realized for the first time that she was crying. She could barely see Aslan, or her siblings, through the haze of her tears. “Daughter of Eve, step forth.”

 

There was no helping it. Susan walked forward, slowly, tremulously, trying to marshal her courage and finding none. She stood before Aslan, and said not a word.

 

“Child, I perceive that your heart is weary and uncertain.” His voice was gentle, which made it better, but not by much. “Come, let me breathe on you.”

 

He did, and Susan felt better. Her heart grew lighter and her tears dried up. She found that she could look in his face, and in the faces of her siblings, and no longer fear their judgment, no matter what it might be. “Thank you,” Susan whispered.

 

Aslan smiled, if a Lion could smile. “Know that even the boldest feel doubt at times.” His golden eyes flicked towards the other three, who shuffled about uncomfortably. “And know that even the strongest may feel weary and downtrodden. But you must not pay heed to your fears, for every night shall have its dawn.”

 

She nodded, smiling.

 

-0-0-0-

 

“Son of Earth.”

 

Aslan’s voice was louder now, and Trumpkin met his gaze, however burning it might seem to him, squarely with a scowl atop his lips. However, a moment later that burning in the back of the Lion’s eyes crept inside of him and he had to gasp, “Wraiths and wreckage!” It had never occurred to him that a Lion could be so large, nor so bright, nor so terrible.

 

“Son of Earth, come here!”

 

Trumpkin squared his shoulders and stepped forwards, telling himself that he could outrun this creature if he decided to make him his prey, and that he had a few things to say to the so-called savior of Narnia besides. He moved until he stood within a few feet of Aslan, and stared upwards at the Lion.

 

The Lion’s burning eyes were unreadable. “So here is the famous swordsman and archer, who does not believe in Lions.”

 

“And here is the Great Lion who delivered this land from the White Witch,” Trumpkin retorted shakily, trying and failing to quell that shake. “And yet thought not to be sure that his land would be free of invaders and murderers. I am not sure that you live up to your name.”

 

“Son of Earth, that is neither here nor there.”

 

Trumpkin snorted, and went on, though every instinct within his short, stout body screamed at him to flee, “Oh, and I suppose the fact that your own kingdom was taken over by Telmarines and your people slaughtered and driven into an ever-shrinking forest is neither here nor there as well.”

 

The Lion’s great haunches tensed, muscles rippling, and Trumpkin flinched and braced himself for the feel of massive jaws upon his flesh, ripping him in two, screwing his eyes shut. But then, the Lion laughed mightily, and he opened his eyes. He saw a great golden face full of mirth, and suddenly far less terrible than it had been before. “Son of Earth, were you under the impression that I was going to hurt you?”

 

Drumming up some semblance of bravado, Trumpkin shrugged. “You had the look of a cat ready to pounce upon a mouse.”

 

Aslan shook his head, the fur of his mane swishing about and filling the air with a sweet, delicious aroma. “Nay, I would not do such a thing. Even if no harm befell you, I do not think it would do much to endear you to me. Nor would it do much for your nerves.”

 

Despite himself and despite feeling pretty foolish for feeling so, Trumpkin couldn’t help but be relieved.


End file.
